It kind of lingered, in the back of my mind, while driving Dries and me down here yesterday. Here I am, moving at incomprehensible speeds, in charge of a vehicle that easily could kill us both in an instant. If handled incorrectly, that is. And I am not a very experienced driver. I passed my driver’s test at first trial but since then I have only driven in short, intense episodes. Road-trip with Hanna from Portland to San Francisco. Acting driver for dad on the Orkney islands. The occasional trip to Hundby, or moving people’s furniture. And lately, I haven’t driven with other people in the car at all.
And it made me think: What enormous trust that entails. Entering a car driven by somebody else. Trusting them to handle it carefully and safely from point A to point B.
And it made me remember: A line from Frida Hyvönen’s song ”I drive my friend”. You do the talking, and I keep my eyes on the road. I am transporting a treasure here, making sure that he get home.
And that made me feel a little extra pang of tenderness toward Dries. Realizing that that’s the level for his trust for me. Driving is not an activity that should be taken lightly.
Katja Malmborg 